Incubi's Ball, or "The Next Rave" Dec 05 '02    Write an essay on this topic. Tweet Popular Products in Sport and Outdoor Wenzel Insta-Bed Queen Raised Airbed From $99 High Sierra Snowboard Bag From $30 The Bottom Line Short Story post. I think this is the area of the site where I post this. If it's not, someone let me know and I'll kill this. I'm going to put one of my many failed and rejected short stories here. Let me know if you people don't hate it. It's slow at the beginning but it picks up :) Please forgive the grammar errors. I know they're there; this is a direct copy of a rough draft so just go with it. Incubi's Ball “Life itself is just a series of regrets from the day before, Austin. So what if you add another one? Doesn’t mean a lot compared against all the others.” Tyler grinned, stepping over to his friend. He removed a small, brown paper bag from the depths of his synthetic leather jacket. The distant smell of sweat and the stronger smell of liquor struck Austin’s nose, and he leaned slightly away, pushing against the mattress of the couch with his fingers. “Jesus, man,” he said. “Where the hell did you go to get that from? You smell like you’ve slept overnight in a dumpster.” The other man rose quickly from the couch, walking into the center of the room, leaving telltale streaks of mud from his boots on the blue-carpeted floor. “That better?” He asked. He folded his thin arms, tattooed dragon on one hand extending its tongue onto the thumb that clinched against the edges of the tan wad. Austin nodded. His expression was one of youthful calm, his black hair clean and wet. He wore shorts at his waist and a towel over one shoulder. Tyler had caught him right out of the shower. “Good, now don’t spaz out on me again. And just so you know, I’ll deny sleeping in a dumpster, but there’s not much else I could. This isn’t the easiest to come across.” “Yeah man, but I’m giving you my VR console for it. That’s gotta be worth it.” Contradictions meeting in a living room. But that’s the way Austin and his motley crew of friends were—a collage of unlikely acquaintances. A quick toss of his head over his shoulder. Tyler cocked an eyebrow; Austin had a finger raised. He rushed to the window, water dripping down his back, peeling the blinds down just slightly. His eyes darted to somewhere outside. “Tell me they’re not home,” said Tyler. Austin exhaled. “Nah, but maybe we’d better make this quick.” “Oh, how’s that for appreciation.” “Look, man, my folks show up, and you and I are both screwed. You can kiss clubbing goodbye for a month. They’ll ground me and keep me buried back there in my room on the weekends.” Tyler didn’t seem satisfied, but he walked over to Austin, handing him the small bag. His friend placed it on one knee, unfolding it slowly. A plastic bag underneath, folded many times over. He removed the small fleck of metal from within. It wasn’t much larger than his fingernail. He gently turned it over between his fingers. The silvery-green surface gleamed, even when reflecting only the soft light coming through the blinds. On one side of the object, a tiny sticker had been affixed, of a cartoon duck in a latex outfit. They called these things Incubi. And Austin finally had one. He looked up at Tyler, grinning. “Thanks man.” “Screw thanks. Where’s my VR console?” Life in the suburbs got boring, really boring. Austin tried to be the upstanding young man his parents wanted him to be, but it didn’t hold much appeal to him. Life had become an endless march of high school club functions, homework, and a part time job that he worked solely for extra spending money. Between the tasks of a student’s life, he occasionally found time for a date or a relaxed evening out. But his parents had been tough, had been strict. He hadn’t forgotten the time he’d come home at two in the morning after a Halloween party. Austin figured his parents had been asleep, and had casually removed rattling, alcohol-stained pieces of his knight costume as he walked up to the front door, opened it… Of course his parents had been worried sick, and they made him sorry he’d stayed out late. They had been very scared, and had been calling around everywhere. In part he understood why. Straight-skins were getting a little less common every year; their domain became a little more encroached upon with every month. The world of the non-wired man was fading away. His parents, who once only heard rumors of people engaging in the growing trend, now knew people who had implants themselves. There was a secretary at his mother’s office with a bionic eye. Austin’s mother hadn’t found out about it when she had hired the woman—not that she could have done anything. It was illegal to turn people away on the basis of implants. Things had been getting strange. Austin lay on his bed, holding the chip in his hand and staring at the microcircuitry, running in a yellow mesh so tight on the silicon wafer that he had to concentrate on individual lines to make them out. It was a labyrinth of complexities. The ceiling fan spun softly overhead. He faced his own maze, all paths spreading out before him, unable to speak to anyone about what Tyler had given him. Most of the people in his town were almost fanatically against the technology. They viewed it as an end to their espressos and golf carts. No more Saturday country club, if the fibered came in. They knew how those people were. Tyler had gone through a lot to get this to him. He friend was resourceful. Strange, but he had a way of coming through for friends. The least Austin could do was try the chip out. Akim and Ryan drove up in the Volvo, stereo thumping and windows set at the maximum tint setting. Austin wanted one just like Akim had. Well, maybe not in red. Probably deep blue, instead. The front passenger’s window hissed down instantly. Ryan’s spiked, bleached hair was visible even before his smile was. He leaned out the window, pushing against the door frame with his hand, waving a skinny arm towards Austin and Tyler. “Hey Austin, come on dude!” An impatient bleep from the car, then another. And another still, when Austin turned around and waved at his folks. Another as he walked up to the car, stepping inside the cabin as the door opened for him. Tyler eased into the other seat, visibly impressed by the vehicle. A final honk. “Alright, bastard,” said Austin, reaching forward and smacking Akim on the back of the head. Laughter all around. The doors slammed automatically, as soon as everyone’s arms and legs were inside a set sensor zone. Akim leaned back. His brown skin looked strange under the half-glow of the neon black lights he’d installed in the cabin. It was like seeing him through the eye of some fading memory. “You ready man?” “Hell yeah. Punch it.” Atlanta had changed. Gone were most of the old sub-hundred story apartment complexes and office buildings. Since the air traffic ceiling had been raised, and the no-fly zone around the city extended, the concrete titans had given way to glass behemoths, whose reflective scales reached upwards, constantly striving to outpace each other’s ascent. Being atop those structures was a unique experience. You had to get used to a barely perceptible sway of the sandwiched girders, glass, and people beneath your feet. Austin didn’t look up- the night sky’s thick clouds blotted out most of the view, rendering the spires gloomy pylons casting their light into a soupy mix of vapor and shadow, congealing into a bog of luminescence suspended overhead. Three red lights blinked down the busy streets. Foot traffic was especially high at ten o’clock. Outside the mired traffic’s sheet metal, a man that looked like a golem formed of athletic jerseys hawked old wrist mounted PDAs on passersby. Two Goths talked at the intersection. A robotic tarantula sat on the older woman’s shoulder, bobbing on its tiny servo-legs as she gestured with a purple-dyed finger. You’re spending the night with Akim, he forced himself to remember. That was his excuse. All of this was nothing. It was what they’d come into the city for. He was glad the window tinting was high. The car edged forward, then into a parking terminal. He got a brief glimpse of the club’s lights as Akim hurled the vehicle into the garage, sending a loud bump up through the body. Three red glowing beacons framed a doorway, their blinking edges slicing into one another as they pulled past. Figures melted into strange forms rushed by outside, a blur in Akim’s windows. He drove very fast, but his parents could afford for him too. “Unbelievable,” Austin said, as they parked the car. The engine died. “What is?” asked Akim. “That we’re finally here?” “Well that, and that you didn’t hit anything.” But his friend missed the joke. He was fishing around in the glove box, the sound of crumpled papers and bits of loose change parting their flotsam sea. “Thought you said you put em’ in here,” Akim said. “I did,” Ryan replied in an annoyed tone of voice. “But dim the damn windows more while I look for em’. Akim flipped something on the console. There was a hissing noise. The windows grew midnight black. The parking garage was barely visible. “Privacy setting,” said the Volvo. Akim killed the blue lights. The young men were reduced to charcoal cameos, poised in their seats, all watching Ryan. “I can’t even see your freckles, Ryan,” said Tyler. A couple of passive chuckles. Then something in Ryan’s hand. Three small, green flakes. His friends took the Incubi, then rushed their hands up onto their temples. A shaved spot, tucked out of sight beneath overhanging follicles, waited on each of their scalps. Soon his friends had attached their chips, and waited for Austin. He hesitated, examining the incubus wafer on his the tip of his finger, an innocent-looking green jewel glittering on a spire of pink. “Go ahead, man,” said Tyler. “Nothing’s going to happen, I promise. Remember, you can flick it on and off, easy as that, just by keeping your finger on it for three seconds.” “You’re sure the sweep won’t nail us?” Akim groaned, relaxed his chair, and rolled his skull on the headrest. He drummed the ceiling impatiently, beating his own rhythm. Tyler added: “The sweep picks up unregistered implants, and guess what?” “How’d you get valid registration numbers?” “Tools of the trade, my friend.” “But wait…bootlegged chips…” muttered Austin, “…heard they can be substandard.” “Christ, Austin, you worry too much,” said Akim. Ryan put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You coming in or not? Time to gear.” Austin nodded his head, then ran his index finger up to his scalp. The chip was cold against the surface of his skin. Geared. He’d heard people talk about it, but the word always seemed distant, a social mirage that everyone knew of but no one drank from. But now it was real. Here he was, an Incubus chip on his hand. All set to slam it home. His parents were probably asleep by now, he realized. He shoved the small contact needles in. A brief pinprick of pain, then nothing. Austin gasped in shock. He fumbled around on the chair, rising off its surface, rushing his hands around on the smooth leather beneath him, panicked. But his friends were laughing. “First timers…oh man!” chortled Tyler. “Guys help me find it!” Austin pleaded. He bent over, checking the floor mats. “Uh, okay,” said Ryan, between his own laughs. He tapped the side of his own head. “Right there man, where you left it.” Austin moved his hand, slowly, to his scalp. The chip was there. He flashed a confused glance at Tyler. “Remember, an Incubus chip kicks in immediately. Powered by the glucose in your blood, man. As soon as the CMOS activates, it shuts down pain receptors wherever you slapped it.” “Which reminds me,” Akim added, “Don’t ever gear your forehead. Bleeds like hell.” Austin was the last one out of the car. The slab-sided, jet-black walls of the club were a stark background canvas upon which clubbers had been painted, leaning against the walls and talking in the shadows. A woman with a glowing, neon-blue forearm ran her fingers through the hair of a man with two different skin tones, running down perfectly color-patterned sections of his face. An implanted checkerboard design— the kind melatonin producers could be programmed to make. Here, in this part of town, people didn’t hide implants. They flaunted them. The four of them trotted down the sidewalk, Tyler in the lead, obviously more comfortable on this street than the others. Even Akim looked a little intimidated by it all. “Little rougher than I’m used to,” he said. “You’ll like it, trust me,” replied Tyler. His footsteps abruptly stopped. Ryan almost tripped. Glowing red eyes stared at them from a collection of tightly packed muscle. The bouncer had moved quick, so suddenly that it seemed he had appeared in their path—a wraith materializing in their way. Tyler smiled. “Hey, Simon. What’s up man?” “How you doing, Tyler? Just gimme a second. Got to sweep you guys.” “Fire away.” The bouncer held his hand up over their small group. Foothills in front of a mountain. Simon’s palm was lightly reflective in the streetlights. As he swept it over their heads, Austin thought he could see something beneath it’s surface. Green LED lights? The hand was replaced at his side. Simon covered one ear with a finger, held the other hand up, index finger raised. The hand flipped, into a thumbs-up. “Checks out, guys. Have fun.” “You too man,” said Tyler, having to reach up to slap the man on his shoulder. “Grab a beer later?” “Yeah, sure, if I don’t get screwed into covering for someone again.” The doors were nothing but iron painted black. An obese woman, with a chain connecting ear and nose, took their fee at the makeshift ticket-box. The doors opened. And it hit him, for the first time. His legs had gone limp, his arms loose above his shoulders. “Whoa there,” said Tyler. “Ryan, let’s get him over to these chairs.” Austin could feel it. It coursed through the air, tangible and palatable. So much of it…so raw and unrestrained. It would flow through his fingertips if he reached them towards the dancing lights overhead. He wanted to run from it, and yet he wanted to immerse himself in it, to drown himself in the flow. Akim eased into a chair next to him. Austin realized he was sitting. That’s right— they’d helped him down. “It’s a lot now, but take a moment to get used to it,” said Tyler, gripping his friend’s arm. A pre-occupied response: “So powerful…” “Aw, man!” said Ryan, from somewhere among his friends. “Someone in here lost their job today. So of course they just have to come in.” “I hate it when people sponge,” agreed Akim. “I like it,” said Tyler. “Puts and edge on the other emotions. Lets you enjoy em’ more when there is something to contrast them against. Kinda like your Volvo next to the old Valiant in the garage.” Austin rubbed his hands over the worn table in front of him. At least it would provide some tangible substance of his own self-existence. He felt small, insignificant, as the tide washed over him. He leaned his head up, looking around. Happy, elated, jubilant, with a touch of sadness. Nauseated over a drunken post break-up bar escapade. The sharp-edged anger of a gang clash, tainted with the regret of missing a college class the morning before. Savoring the wonderful feel of someone’s hands against her skin. Wondering how he’d get more money for the bills he had to pay on the first. Enjoying the dance as she tossed her hair side to side, feeling the arousal of the man that gyrated next to her body. Spinning a track, loving the feel of revolving vinyl under his fingers. Had a good tune coming up…right after this cigarette. Annoyance at how expensive they’d gotten. Leaving out the back door, girlfriend’s hand in his own. Warmth. A puzzled question from elsewhere. She hadn’t gotten the joke. Wondering if the girl at one of the tables always wore leather that tight. Austin looked over to the table, knowing exactly where it was, though he hadn’t even noticed the woman before. It made sense though, for some reason. He felt like he knew about her an hour ago. The woman turned completely around in her chair. Looked at Austin. Smiled. He could feel her amusement— attraction, too? Blew a kiss at him. He caught it with one hand. She laughed. He felt it and laughed, feeling her enjoy his humor as he did hers. He turned to Tyler, learning to focus again. “This is…I mean, everyone in the room…” He had to shout over the music. Tyler replied, “Incubus chips, my friend. All they’re doing is stimulating chemical responses and transmitting emotional tracks and memory shunts at thousands of gigs per minute. You get to enjoy it all, and they get to enjoy all of you. You get good enough, you’ll learn how to ride others’ emotions when you’re feeling slammed. Filter out what you don’t want. That’s why Akim is complaining.” “Yeah, he’s got no skills,” said Ryan, laughing. Someone at a table three rows across laughed as well. Akim flicked Tyler off. “Yeah, I think I’m getting used to it,” said Austin. “But it’s hard to pick out individual thoughts.” “Well, you’ll get the hang of it,” said Tyler. “Takes everyone time.” Somewhere, he felt a mind agree. It was faint. “Some are stronger than others,” said Austin. “Some emotions, some thoughts are stronger than others,” his friend added. “Makes sense, doesn’t it? If I just had my first love break up with me, am I gonna feel more strongly about that than someone who’s just enjoying a slice of pizza?” “Well, yeah.” “And there you go.” “But it seems like the bad is heavier.” “Not always,” said Akim. “But the thing is, it really brings everyone else down if you show up depressed over something. Yeah you might feel better, but everyone else is going to get a little more down.” “And that’s being a sponge.” “Exactly.” Austin nodded. The wave of feelings was relentless, now, but he was growing used to it. He simply ignored some thoughts, able to focus on others and disregard the undercurrents. Someone in the room was enraged over something that had happened. Communication with another person about it… Then humor washed over it, and he forgot. “It’s the very flavor of humanity’s existence,” said Tyler. “It’s all wrapped up, bottled and waiting for you to taste it. Drink deep, my friend.” “This is awesome,” replied Austin. “This was so worth it. Thanks guys.” Smiles from the others at the table. He felt their glow. Friendship. He didn’t want to leave this belonging. Tyler stood up. “Let’s get out on the floor.” “Why would you want to get up instead of just sitting here and enjoying this?” “Because,” said Akim, “It only gets better out there. Come on, I’ll show you.” Austin didn’t have to be encouraged twice. The lights were killed over the floor. Only the tables and bar were still visible. People stood in the darkness, smiling and holding hands. A feeling of hushed expectation. Voices died down. Thoughts became focused towards the DJ. Questioning, wondering what was happening. He realized that particular emotion—it was his own. He started to turn and ask, but Tyler was already talking. Funny how that worked. “I don’t want to spoil it for you,” he said. “Just get ready.” Then the music burst out, and overhead images buzzed over the crowd. People reached their hands up, euphoria pulsing and throbbing in a heady rhythm around and over them all. Firelight danced in coppery filaments between their fingers. There was dancing all around him, and overhead the wonders of a starlit sky with all the planets and moons and comets he could ever hope to see. “Holographic? Wow!” “No, they’re not there,” said Tyler. “But when he started the music, that’s what most people began to think of, and so the incubi pick up on it, and give it to us all. People add to the image, or bend and conform it to whatever they want. It’s just a game, when you think about it.” “But-“ “Just go with it man,” said Akim. “Can’t talk…drops the imagery sometimes.” A comet soared around the dancers, rushing in between their bodies. People slapped at it with their hands, stardust exploding pyrographically, and knocked it towards others. And so the fiery orb rocketed around the room, directed and thrown as if it was a corporeal entity. A silvery saucer buzzed over his head, so close that it startled him when he looked back up. Austin yelped and stepped back, bumping into Ryan. His friends were laughing. Tyler spun on his feet, bringing his arms out to his side, turning, the silver spacecraft rotating with him, tilting his head back, little green cartoon space alien in the saucer waving at them. Then he jerked his head upright and the saucer buzzed off. Austin’s mouth was agape. “How did you-“ DJ’s voice booming: “Let’s slash this one in sideways ya’ll!” A delighted cheer from the dancers. A different song, low in tone and with a pulsed beat. Gone was the galaxy. A river appeared in the club’s skeleton rafters. Fish in the current: multi-colored, swimming in circles around the supporting beams, leaving slicks of rainbow in the water behind them. Grass, jungle trees, all of it rushing into existence. A collective, communal work of imaginary art. Austin stared at the image, focused. He could do this. He knew he could. From the water crawled an alligator. Faint form at first, ghostly, then began to solidify. “That’s it, Austin!” encouraged Tyler. The alligator rose, gold scales on its belly, placing a derby upon its head. Winked at the club’s patrons. Laughter from everywhere. He felt it before he heard it. The alligator danced on the bank, slow at first, then with increased confidence. It grinned, snaggled teeth popping up from its jaw. More gators coming out of the water. Some dressed in leather. Others in formal suits, and even one in a tutu. The emotions from the dancers around him were the essence of joy. Encapsulated. Delivered to his very soul. But Tyler was tugging at his arm. Austin lost it – his gator blinked once, then vanished. “What?” Austin demanded, annoyed at the loss of the moment. Tyler nodded his head towards one end of the club. An iron-framed door was just closing. “So?” “Naw, you missed him,” said Tyler, pulling him away. “The creator of these chips.” “You’re kidding me! Katsumi is here?” Another feeling stomped into his senses, as thick and entrenched as the pace of a hiker through a swamp. Searching….hunting. Where was she? Austin started to look around the bar, almost reflexively, before he remembered that he wasn’t looking for anyone. Tyler’s voice jerked him back: “You with me, Austin?” “Where’s Akim and Ryan?” “Dancing. Come on, I want you to meet Katsumi. I mean, you do want to meet him, don’t you?” “Yeah, but…” his head turned back, staring somewhere back over the distant bar. Someone was probing every expanse of the club. “…there’s someone here I’m looking for…” “Dude, shake it off.” Smacked lightly on both sides of the face. Tyler’s hands were slick with sweat. “Come on…” “Alright.” But he looked back, once more, towards the expanse of stiletto floor and reverberating sound waves. Somewhere past the tangle of the clubbers and the holographic fauna in the rafters…somewhere beyond the river above their heads. Someone was searching for a person in the club. Anger. It was intense, but it wasn’t all that was there. A new feeling bled through, an aftertaste like swallowed blood. Anxiety. Tyler pulled the iron door open and passed through, with absolute ease and lack of hesitation. Austin lingered at the doorway, looking back towards the dance floor. Ryan and Akim hadn’t joined them; Ryan was more interested in dancing and Akim claimed to have met Katsumi before (which was probably complete garbage), but Tyler hadn’t tried to persuade them otherwise. Inside the doorway was a smaller, coal-bin of a room with a low ceiling, a room that seemed a hundred miles apart from the thumping music on the other side of the wall. Several men were lounging around on an ancient, dilapidated set of Victorian-style furniture. They talked softly in low tones. One of them stood in the darkness of the room’s far corner, bald, midnight sunglasses, a deliberately obvious and wicked-looking mechanical right arm crossed over his other, natural one. A storm of emotions coming from the conversation at the furniture. There was distrust, and paranoia bleeding through a thin paper bag of camaraderie. Tyler was already at the chairs, and he shook hands with several of the men, who were of varying ages. Most of them looked like mid-twenties to early thirties at the most, however. A collection of greetings, some polite, most of them impassive. They apparently regarded Tyler as a fixture in a leather trench coat. Better that than hostility, Austin supposed. Nevertheless, a hand waved him towards a chair, and Tyler sat. The conversation resumed immediately. As Austin timidly approached the men, he could hear traces of it: “…third-level coolant system hooked up to his damn lung upgrade. Man, you shoulda seen it…” “What’s given is that we’re still the ones they prowl for. Droppin’ nets for us like a bunch of…” “…like this are windows into the new future. Like it or not, it’s coming.” Then one of the lowered heads looked up, regarding him. Whoa. Austin realized whp it was. It was him. Katsumi was a raven-haired, sharp-browed, olive skinned ghost of a man, whose slender build and under height seemed at odds with the muscle gathered around him. He was in a jet-black t-shirt, with some kind of red flame emblazoned all over the sides. A small gold chain hung around his neck. He smiled at Austin. The kind of smile a scarecrow would wear. “A newcomer,” he said. An outpouring of a caution, then amusement. Tyler started to speak, but Katsumi raised a single hand. His friend grew quiet immediately. “You know,” he began, “You and I, and Tyler of course, are the only ones geared in this room. This must be an interesting experience for you.” Austin was dumbfounded. The feelings and thoughts cascading off the walls had been strong and heady, thick in the air like a dense storm since he’d entered the room, and they were almost all this man’s? “You know why I created them, don’t you?” he asked. Shrugged shoulders—it was all Austin could muster. “Imagine a world where distrust, doubt, and plotting no longer exist. When everything you feel is exposed to the world, for the world to drink it in, then you cannot hide behind false facades. Too much suspicion in this world. We need unity. Do you agree?” The man in the corner had a firearm at his side. Austin believed it wasn’t as loaded as the question he’d been asked. “Yes, we need unity,” said Austin, carefully. “But I lived in unity for years. It can unsettle you as much as turmoil.” A suppressed laugh from one of the men. Katsumi folded his hands, looked at Austin from the shadows of his eye sockets. “An interesting perspective. We can assume, then, that your opinion is that unity is nothing but barely suppressed turmoil? A Third Reich behind an assortment of friendly smiles?” “I suppose so. True unity is harder to handle than a façade of unity. Anyone can gather and play pretend brotherhood.” He wished he’d taken the words back as soon as he had said them. But he could feel Katsumi rolling the comment around, exposing it to different perspectives. First there was a touch of anger, then analytical pondering. Finally, agreement. “I didn’t get your name.” “Austin Killmire,” he said. He reached forward, took Katsumi’s hand, shook it. Cold and soft as plastic. An artificial hand. “Austin, you will witness unity slowly come to the world. It has already started. Man is achieving his next step, becoming wired. Like the Neanderthals, straight skins will slowly fade away. They will fade into an embrace of the circuits, a meshing of man and the microprocessor. It will be a silicon landscape of perfect harmony.” “I agree,” said Tyler. Katsumi nodded. He waved a hand towards the room beyond the door. “Out there, Austin, is joy through ultimate communication. Much as man grew to discard the impassive and infective tool of hand writing, so shall the flesh-bound and obsolete speech of our tongue and teeth be replaced by something more elegant, more efficient. “Sometimes I come here just to bask in the warmth. This club is the best warm rock this particular lizard has found. Out there, Austin, is version beta of man’s true form of communication, compliments of yours truly.” “But not everyone agrees with you,” interjected Austin. “I’m sure Gutenberg had his critics, as well. The trouble with vision is that something always rears up to try and block your sight. But, you are right. And even now, one of those who would destroy this future is in my bar. To be found shortly, I’m sure.” “What?” “People sneak in with unregistered incubi chips, passing the surgical procedure that ensures they will not damage their central nervous system when gearing. Lately, we’ve had law enforcement try to slip under our security. They apparently view me as a glorified narcotics dealer. Isn’t that wonderful? And they’re breaking their own laws to track me down.” He reached forward to the table, lifting a small glass of scotch and sipping slowly from it. He replaced it. “It doesn’t matter, however,” he concluded. “She will be found shortly. Her feelings give her away. Such are the wonderful vulnerabilities of the inexperienced.” “She?” “One of their undercover-“ He paused. Several of the men lifted fingers to their ears, stone rigid. A smile eased across Katsumi’s face. He grinned like a demon in the darkness. “They found her,” he said. They rose simultaneously off the furniture. And then walked out the door, Austin and Tyler following closely. The dance floor had parted. Angry waves of red flame draped the air in the cloud of cigarette smoke above the dancers’ heads. The flame’s tips angled, pointing towards something in the open center between all the dancers. All the rage of all the clubbers directed at one source in the center of the room. There a woman in a simple leather vest and red mini skirt stood, fists clenched, eyes darting around. Akim and Ryan were on the outskirts of the crowd, looking around, seeing Tyler and Austin, pushing their way through the throng towards them. Katsumi and his men began to move towards the center of the mob. There was already shouting, accusations. Hot, red malice shot around the room. It was singularly felt in the minds of all the people gathered around the woman, many of whom had left their tables to join those in the center. The woman, short and blonde-haired, thick makeup on her panicked face, turned in all directions. Austin could feel her desperation. But there was no escape. Her hand trembled, and her breathing was quick. Austin felt fear course throughout his body. His mouth drew agape, as her eyes drew wider. Katsumi and his men were almost to her now. “What happened?” he heard Tyler say. His friends were fading into the background now. Ryan shouted, “I don’t know man, they were all over the bar looking for this chick, and then all of the sudden, like half of the people dancing turned and grabbed this girl, and they just hurled her to the floor! That’s when the shouting started. Where were you guys?” “We were still talking to Katsumi in the back.” Austin’s breath issued forward in a quick tempo. His heart rapid-fired in his chest, a tiny drum machine between his lungs. “Oh hell,” said Akim. “Look…” Katsumi reached the center of the circle. Hatred behind his smile, as he looked at the woman. There was pleading in her eyes, the longing for mercy running in a cold trickle down Austin’s body. “Please,” Austin and the woman said, in a staggered whisper. But Katsumi shook his head, smirking. He stood back, raising his hands to the red flames of anger, twirling his fingers through them, joyful in the firelight. A red skeleton appeared in the mentally projected pyre. Katsumi looked around at everyone, smiled at Austin, then lowered his hands. And they charged the woman. Austin raised his hands to his temples, fists clenched so tight that he expected to hear snaps and breaks any moment. He could feel the white-hot agony of her pain, the sorrow of her assault. He fell to the floor, vaguely aware of his friends saying something, rushing to his side. Their hands on his body A rush of crimson in his mouth. “No…” he said softly. The woman reeled in the force of the blows, balling up, tucking her legs in. Austin curled into a fetal position, lashing out with one leg, sending a chair over onto its back, the sound of a glass shattering as it struck the floor. The sharp stab of someone’s knife into his side, only it wasn’t his ribs the blade passed between. Hatred, and joy, and adrenaline, intertwining in a harsh embrace. Pain. His pain. Her pain. Fading. The pain was fading. Sucking it in, for the last time. Fading out. The sky growing black, stars of injury at pinpoints in his body. Sparkling, growing bright, and then retreating. Dimming, one by one. Over everything else, over the torrent of feelings in the club, he could hear it, reverberating off his very spirit. Laughter. Katsumi’s. Gone. He awoke on his couch, arm flailed and resting in front of his face. Saliva still slick on his lips. The coffee table slowly came into view. Blue fabric. Sitting atop it, like a dead beetle on its back, spindles of contact wires in the air, was the incubus chip. His chip. The gold implant connectors were tinted a faint red with trace amounts of his own blood. He’d never gear again. He knew it. Austin turned over, felt his side, just for his own comfort. No injury there, just smooth, straight skin. A dark shadow. He raised his arms in defense, forgetting himself for one moment. “Whoa, easy man,” said Tyler. “It’s me. You’re good. Had a rough night though.” “What happened to me?” “Just like what Katsumi was talking about. Incubus chip didn’t like your nervous system, it seems. But those are the risks.” “Tyler…” he said, sitting up. A bad headache. A faint sting from the shaved spot on his scalp. “That woman…I could feel her. How did she-“ “No,” replied Tyler, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “She didn’t make it.” Austin leaned forward, feeling a wave of sorrow. But at least it was his own, and no one else’s. “I’m gonna go man,” Tyler said. Outside, a bird sang an early morning tribute to the approaching sun. His friend started to walk towards the door. “Tyler…” The other young man looked back. On the tip of Austin’s finger, a speck of green silicone was perched, a tick just before his nail. “Take it,” Austin ordered. “Hey man, don’t let one bad night screw you on this. You know, it took several-“ “Take it.” A sighed response. Tyler walked forward, grabbing the chip, and hurried out the door. Austin laid back on the couch, relaxing when he heard the wooden door close and latch itself. He stared up at the ceiling overhead. The fan twirled slowly. Drying a tear on his cheek.

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